


if anyone's going to break this heart, i think it should be you

by majesdane



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-18
Updated: 2009-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>au. teacher!marni and student!mag. | <i>She thinks it is the most beautiful song she has ever heard.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	if anyone's going to break this heart, i think it should be you

Let's pretend we're artists and everything we feel is something new to be proud of. Let's take our imaginary friends on a double date and ditch them in a movie and hope they get along while we kiss outside on the sidewalk. Let's take the dreams you mumbled in your sleep and paint a child's nursery. And if we don't finish today, we've always got tomorrow.   
\--  _pleasefindthis_

 

 

She is named after the saint, but she never goes by that name.

She corrects Marni when Marni says it for the first time, reading it off the list of students on the first day of class, doing an attendance check. Marni flushes, catches and corrects herself. The girl is one she's never seen at the school before, sitting in the back of the classroom, laptop propped open on her desk, the slight tap of her fingers hitting the keys just barely audible from where Marni is standing. She looks the name up, when the day is over and she's collected the last of the essays on the summer reading.

Magdalene Defoe. It is a pretty kind of name. Different.

Mag, sitting in the back of the room every day, eyes staring unfocused at the screen of her computer, barely ever talking, always the last one to leave when class is over; she is different. Pretty, too, with her long, dark hair and pale skin. There is a moment, when, collecting papers, their fingers brush against each other. It is the tiniest, softest of moments, but it is all Marni can think about. In class, it takes every shred of willpower she has to not keep her eyes fixed on Mag. She wants to know everything that Mag is, but Mag is like Pandora's Box, with her secrets locked up tight, secrets that Marni is sure will undo her. There is what she knows about Mag, the things from her academic records: an excellent student, blind from birth, transferred this fall, shy, quiet, a gifted singer. And then there are things that seem more important, like her favorite book or the way her eyes look in the afternoon sunlight.

There is an day in September, when Mag knocks softly on the worn metal frame of the doorway of Marni's office, wanting to talk. Her hands are cold, when Marni takes them in her own; her tears are hot, when Marni carefully, gently, reaches forward and wipes them away.

She catches Mag's hand, kisses her knuckles, the tips her fingers. She puts Mag's hand against her cheek, cradling it; Mag's fingers move against her skin, the lightest of touches, and it seems to Marni as if Mag is trying to read her. She feels like she is made of Braille, as if all of her is laid out for Mag to explore and interpret. She isn't sure if it's just a schoolgirl crush or if Mag really does care for her, but then Mag kisses her in a way that is completely unabashed, the two of them in Marni's office after school, the door closed and the lights out. Mag tastes of cream soda and bubblegum and she kisses Marni in the sweet kind of way that makes Marni feel weak in her knees. It isn't right, for Mag to kiss her so, for her to fall so easily into this.

Her fingers are still wet with purple ink, smeared there from an earlier session of grading papers, when she grabs Mag and kisses her roughly, impatient from waiting the whole day. Mag's shirt, pale blue, is stained with the purple ink; Marni panics and sighs and admires them and comes up with ways for Mag to explain them away. She is finding excuses for everything she does now, and she's getting rather good at it. And Mag grins and blushes and thanks her, and it's the way she says it, that wide, easy smile that she gives Marni that makes Marni grab onto her again and press her face against Mag's neck. Mag's hair smells of the ocean; it reminds Marni of when she was seventeen, walking along the pier during summer break. She kisses Mag's neck through her hair; Mag sighs.

And it is all made up of this, all of these stolen moments; it is this and nothing else.

Mag allows Marni to say her name properly, lets Marni whisper it in her ear when they steal kisses in the bathroom or in dark corners of the park, on the few evenings when they can escape to find each other. It is the kind of thing that ties Mag to her, that makes her think that maybe what they feel is the same, at least in theory.

There is one evening, when they make love in the back of Marni's car. It is awkward and fumbling and Mag giggles, sensitive, when Marni's hands slip under the edge of her shirt and her fingers brush against the warm skin of Mag's stomach. And then there is Mag, who anxiously kisses her and presses her against the seats and Marni has to catch her breath and tell them both to slow down; she wants it to be better than this, with candles and roses, but Mag whispers in her ear that this is good enough, with the moonlight pooling through the windows and the sound of waves crashing as the tide ebbs out, in the background. There is a song playing on the radio when Mag kisses Marni's ear and her hand slides up Marni's shirt, and though Marni can't make out the words at all, she thinks it is the most beautiful song she has ever heard; she thinks it suits them perfectly.

She begins to grade in light blue ink; she buys all new ballpoint pens and throws the others out, dumping them out unceremoniously into the trash. Blue is Mag's favorite color, even though she does not know what it looks like. It was her mother's favorite color; it is the color of the sky the summer of Mag's junior year, when they kiss behind the school in the deserted parking lot; it is Mag's dress, for her spring formal, while Marni, chaperoning, watches her across the room. She has never longed so desperately to be close to someone; she wants to catch Mag's eyes across the room, lock her in a stare that says everything she never dares to say aloud. It is the kind of feeling that weighs heavily on her, a huge kind of feeling that presses against her and makes her heart ache. She is both unhappy and satisfied, when, later, in the darkness backstage, Mag kisses her hard enough to leave her breathless. They are so close and so far away and it so cliche that Marni almost wants to cry.

And sometimes they plan ahead to go out at the same time, to go to the same places; they act surprised when they see each other there, as if they never expected to run into each other. Sometimes they sit and have coffee at the cafe across from the bookstore that Marni frequents; sometimes they play their own version of tag through the rows of books, Marni lightly touching Mag's shoulder, fingers only resting there a moment, before she darts away. And then there are the times when they miss each other completely, when Marni gets stuck in traffic or Mag remembers she has singing lessons that afternoon and goes to them instead. And sometimes Marni finds Mag sitting on the bench outside the bookstore; she slides onto the seat beside her and they sit there, quiet.

Sometimes they are lovers. Other times they are strangers. Most times they are only just getting by.

She likes it best when they're still, like this.


End file.
